The Phillies were playing the Marlins over the holiday weekend, so we'd had plans to go with Susan D, since her friend got discounted tickets because she was singing the National Anthem. Well, the Nova Southeastern Chorale was singing the National Anthem, and they did it quite well, when the game began, over 30 minutes late due to a slow but steady rainfall.
The game was not much to write home -- or blog -- about (fish lose 3-2), and our seats were sort of crummy (section behind visitors bullpen... I think I saw Lidge). They don't let you bring umbrellas into the stadium (SunLife, this year), so I was wearing a turquoise hooded poncho over my NYY cap (no pix, luckily) and sitting on the wet bench, till I remembered the paper towels in the ladies room. What a bore! That's why they want a stadium with a roof -- because it always rains. So they'll get one and then wonder why they still have no one at games. But that's another rant.
This one has to do with the fact that the chorus trudged in from the field, found their spouses / friends / wet seats, and began drinking. And what do you think happens when non-baseball-watching choristers in their cups do for fun during long slow games? You're right if you guessed, "They sing show tunes!"
The Sound of Music, A Chorus Line, South Pacific, Annie, My Fair Lady.... it was a freakin' walk down Tin Pan Alley. Susan D gave this one group the hairy eyeball and muttered something litigious under her breath, but I kept focused on the game, what there was of it. Actually, some nice hits & catches, but not nearly exciting enough to drown out the singers. I hated to feel so curmugeonly about it, but, you know, no one was joining it! I declared a complete game in the middle of the 7th inning, so we stretched our way back to the car, which we found with the aid of a cell-phone picture we'd taken during daylight. Good thing, too, because the big balloon doll landmarks I'd ID'd had been snugly packed up in their nighttime closets and once again the direction of the car was lost.
The next night, same place, same time, Roy Halliday threw his no-hitter. Now that would have been fun to see and I'd have had no problem shushing the singers. But by then, we were on the boat.